Labyrinths in question - It's not my fault

I

What a day it was. On a day like this, Rosie used to take little Samko (short in Slovak for Samuel) for long walks in the forest. The ones he enjoyed so much. The leaves were rattling in that little part in Bratislava on the way to the Devin Castle. Along the forest, at the start where the Danube kisses the Morava River, the same leaves were rolling one onto the other, reminding Rosie of the westerns she used to watch, as a child. Typical scenes in such westerns included the dry grass and hay that glided on the sand with the little blows of the wind. After that Clint Eastwood's shadow appeared at the threatening sound of Ennio Morricone's 'The good, the bad and the ugly'.

The only sounds that Rosie could hear were the two rivers bumping into each other along with the sound that the wheels of the wheel chair emitted as they touched the ground. The hair of the golden boy sitting on it was combed perfectly to the right.

Her history lessons as Samko used to call them and taunt her many times with, always started right there underneath the shadow of the historical Devin castle. Owing to its strategic position, the cliff above is at an altitude of 212 meters. Because of the confluence of the rivers Danube and Morava, this point was an ideal place for a fort. Whoever owned this place in the old times, could gain control of the important trade route along the Danube as well the branch of Amber Road. That is why the site above which Rosie and Samko were, had been settled since the Neolithic era and fortified since the Bronze and Iron Age. Later, both the Celts and the Romans built strong fortresses there. Several decades ago, the first Christian church was identified in the part where the Roman ruins were found, located north of the Danube. The castle shadowing them stands just inside the Slovak territory, at the border between Slovakia, till 1993 making part of a greater country Czechoslovakia and Austria. The border runs from west to east along the Morava River and subsequently the Danube.

Rosie worked as an accountant and as a house-wife. Most of the work, she did from home and that gave her ample time to be with Samko. Not only because he was her only child but also because he needed her help. He was dependant on her.

Samko was living his 11th year of his tormented life, but ever since he was born, Rosie - a single mother - unlike many chose to battle for her son. He was born with having the Ribose-5-phosphate isomerase deficiency which in itself is a human disorder caused by mutations in the pentose phosphate pathway enzyme ribose - 5 - phosphate isomerase. He was the only diagnosed patient in the world, thus making RPI deficiency the rarest disease in the world.

The mutations would cause severe contractions that in term caused unbearable pain lasting only few minutes. Until it subdued however, little Samko would see the Calvary, like they say. During one of the attacks, he also developed a permanent infection in the nerve joints, just below the pelvis, constraining him to live the rest of his life in a wheel chair.

II

Stanislav, Stano in short, fell in love with this woman - the blonde petite girl with big blue shining eyes that were always smiling - the first time he saw her.

Eternal love, he used to think.

She was a very nice woman, intelligent and caring. Yes, she was the ideal wife. But there was only one problem. She came from a distant village. It was during the first years of the pro-communist era. Life was difficult. Furthermore his father was the Primate of Bratislava, Dr. Rajnovy. His father was a conservative person. In vain, he tried several times to open the eyes of his son. He also believed in the distinction of classes. That is why he was only elected for one term. He forgot that he climbed the stairs with years of struggle in the post-war days. And when Stano, introduced him to her, he saw a frail woman that needed, not only to be guided but to put her socks up. He immediately refused a marriage between the two classes. A marriage like that was impossible and he subsequently would never give his blessing. She wasn't accepted. But Stano was determined to carry on. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. He renounced his family because of her. That was his one way ticket out of his family, to the dismay of his father. He reached a point of no return.

III

Samko always used to carry an HB size 4B and 6H graphite pencil together with an A3 paper. For even though his disease limited him from doing certain things like other children his age, it did not limit him from doing the thing he loved most. Painting. He was a bright student and very smart and intelligent. All the teachers used to praise him for his incredible effort to succeed.
His paintings were very detailed. He inherited this hobby from his father's side. His grandfather was an apprentice of Salvador Dali during the best of his Catalonia times. In fact Gregorii, his grandfather, had also grown and trimmed his moustache just like the renowned Dali's!

Rosie noticed that her son was painting. He looked distracted. She could see that one moment he was looking right and then he turned left abruptly, observed, absorbed and brushed with his beloved friends. His pencils.

You could see pain in her eyes. Pain that had accumulated throughout these years of sorrow. Life had never smiled to her. In fact she was always the black sheep of the family. And because to a certain extent it was with the death of her father, that she started to breathe again. She was not ready for what was to come.

IV

"I am sorry Pan (Mr) Rajnovy" Prof. Milka said. "We can say, with certainty, that the ultra sounds of your wife are not as positive as they look". He looked very serious at this young gentleman. He was observing his physique and how well built he was. He needed to treat him with respect. He knew well who his father was and certainly he needed to be careful.

"Take a seat please" the Professor continued. "Would you like a green tea or a coffee?"

"Ano (Yes), a green tea, please". And as soon as he said it, he lowered his head in his hands and what were before tear drops now became streams of sorrow gliding across his face.

"Vierka, please bring a green tea for Pan Rajnovy" the Professor ordered to his faithful 22 year old assistant.

He looked down at Stano again and put a fatherly hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"We all have to go through this in life" he said. "God's roads are unclear and never the same".

"Yes, Professor" Stano said. "But my road seems to be quite difficult. You know that I have been always shadowed by my father and his share of mistakes in this bureaucracy". He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and continued "And now this". He couldn't speak anymore. Once again he started crying. The tall persona of the Professor was behind where Stano was sitting and recurrently the professor's both hands were now squeezing both shoulders.

"I know Stano. But we all have to be guided by someone and that is what I am doing".

He continued "What I can see is that are several dark spots all over the embryo and quite frankly I can say that I have never in my 37 years acting as a children's doctor seen something like this. I therefore cannot promise you anything but my prayers and all my experience. And I will use all that in order to save your child. I suggest that you don't tell anything to your wife, at this early stage".

Stano nodded. But his head remained down. Then suddenly, he felt the sun reflecting on his face. It was as if God was smiling to him. But God wasn't there. God left him alone. Or so he thought.

Why do you leave me, when I need you most? He whispered. But he was overwhelmed with the answer he heard in his conscience.

I never left you my child. I gave my son to show you the way and save you. But people did not listen to him and instead they killed him.

I have a mission for you and today is your first day. Yes, Stano, you have been chosen. You have been enrolled. But my ways aren't by-passes. My ways are far more difficult. But none of my roads are! The roads that I choose for you can get you a step closer to me, to be like me, to be with me, to live like me, but they indeed bring sorrow and pain in this earthly life but I will be there, right beside you.

The sound still echoed in his mind. Like tiny vibrations waiting to be released. But life, of course is not that easy!!

V

She was lost and like editing her own movie, she was trying constantly to remove the unwanted parts. The parts that brought her sorrow. There was no relief. There was no eagerness for a tomorrow. But all this needed one look. Just one look. In front of her. Her pale hands were holding the handles of the wheel chair and on that wheel chair was the reason for her struggle.

Yes, I need to fight. I need to get my strength. And fight for him. His life would be devastating without me by his side. He had already been deprived of his father by an act of selfishness.

All these thoughts were flowing in her mind. Only the tickling sound of her son's HB graphite pencil brought her back to reality.

He was now still. The thoughts in his mind were afloat like the two kissing rivers. He was scribbling or so it looked like and pausing. Scribbling and pausing. Rosie was now curios of what Samko was designing. She leaned onto his right and looked. On this A3 paper filled only with black and white were the lone figures and designs of one leaf, one rock, one branch, one tree, one window, one house in the backdrop, one little river that ended were it started, one lamp and one bus stop.

Very strange, she thought. But the inhibitions of a mother were put aside. And she let a stream of words flow, leave their brain, where before they transformed themselves from thoughts and from her thoughts became words by flowing deep into the magnified resonance air that surrounded them. The wind felt like whispers. In her head though it was as if another person was there.

No, it can't be possible, she thought.

VI

After visiting her at the hospital, Stano decided what was to become. He came to reconfirm his love. Or so he thought. But history would prove him wrong. His hand still ached from the big bunch of flowers that he bought, from Kamenne Namestie and carried with him, half an hour earlier. He walked towards the hospital.

Unbeknown to her, he knew all. Like the professor. The professor's last words still dangled in his mind.

"He will live but the life in front of him will be a difficult one. You both have to be there for him".

But all that Stano could think was that how of all possible people, he, Stano Rajnovy, the son of the ex-Primate of Bratislava, was going to tell everyone that he had a child but a disabled son.

He was already decided what the next step would be.

He imagined telling Rosie about aborting. But he knew that before, he had to explain the whole situation and that, would destroy her completely. The probable statement that would have come up from her mouth was echoing, no penetrating his mind...'What if not? What if not? What if not? What if they are wrong?'

He entered the room and found her sleeping. He placed her favorite flowers on the side table. Roses. The roses that bore her name. Rosie, like the rose in the hand of St. Rita. The patron saint of the impossible. Her parents named her so because she was born on the May the 22nd, just like the saint's death anniversary more than 5 centuries before.

He took out his pen. The pen she gave him for their first wedding anniversary. It was black with a golden rose and his name inscribed on it. He wrote some words.

Then he went out of the room, closed the door silently behind him. He looked towards the corridor and there was no one. He was on the 11th floor. He walked towards the lift. He pressed the button showing the arrow to go up.

Arriving on the roof he pushed the bar that ran along the door. Outside was overcast. Like the typical weather during the week of the mourning of the Christ. The helicopter bay was deserted.
The security yelled at him to move sideways from the H sign and gestured as if wanting to ask him why is he there. He obliged by moving aside and then he took out one cigarette and waved it towards the security. The security nodded. Stano made a sign that he needed a lighter. The security told him to wait and he went to pick his lighter from the guard room a couple of metres away.

Stano looked down. He was now on the 77th floor. He looked towards the security. Then suddenly he climbed above the railing and glanced once more towards the security. He threw the unlit cigarette 77 floors below. The security knew what was going to happen next and he started running to try to avoid the unavoidable. He was late though. Stano was gone. He had followed the cigarette.

VII

"Samko zlatko (dear), why aren't you using the space in between every drawing that you are doing? Why ruining all that space? Don't you know that the trees take years to grow and we need to make sure that we make the best out of the papers".

"Ja viem, Ja viem (I know, I know). He smiled.

"Mamka (nice way to say mum in Slovak), God created the space. God created the love. God is love. And if the space is love. Then all this space resembles my love for everything that I have painted inside. God gave us air, and the air that we breathe is our space. Now isn't that love?"

He smiled again.

“Everything that we see is unique and rare Mamka, just like my illness. Just everything. I designed one leaf, for it to resemble that God is light for he loves us and his anger every time we betray him is light and vanishes quickly. I did one rock, for it to resemble St. Peter. We are as strong as the rock the church was built upon. I painted one branch and one tree, because we all have to be one in the body of the Christ. I did one window, because we have to look towards the only destination that we have to walk towards, work for...heaven. I did one house in the backdrop, because it resembles that God might be invisible but still there. And one day, even though it might be far, we will finally meet him and use the place that no one ever took, because that place is ours to have. It has been reserved for us individually so when the appropriate time comes we use it. I did one little river that ended where it started, because the circle ends where it starts and the circle symbolizes perfection. And perfect is only God. I did one lamp symbolizing Jesus. The light we shall follow. The bulb we shall lit our heart with. And then finally I did one bus stop, it will be where Dad will be waiting for us, when we will finally meet again".

She was now sobbing. She didn't know if it was because these were the most beautiful words she'd ever heard or if it was because of her son's illness.

"God gave me the space I did not use. Because that space is dedicated to you. You are rare and unique like all the things we see. Like all the things I've painted. And the rare and unique you is taking care of a boy, her son who has a rare illness and is unique because his mum made him so".

He stopped and took a long deep breath and continued, "If I am like this, Mamka, it's not my fault. But I still love you". They both wept and the rivers of tears from both faces met when they hugged each other, and touched each other’s faces just like the Danube and Morava rivers, a couple of metres away.

He grabbed her face in his hands. He saw the tears of joy still running down her face. He smiled.

These last words he said entered like lightning in her brain. Suddenly she remembered of that night when she got and she read that letter. The letter his father wrote to her. His last words.

"Rosie, it's not your fault. But I still love you".

THE END

JV
VII.III.XI